#bells were rung
The fourth series reads as follows: Apple Balancing…Potential…The Newbies…The Dessert…Dinosaurs and Cannibalism…Sassy Sprinklepants…The Secret Vault of Mudlerness…Taco Night…Neckhole Wrestling…The Onesie…Multiplication…Catching On…Thanksgiving…The Funeral …Midnight Libations
To catch up: First series…Second series … Third series
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Mulder made it back from his second trip down to New Orleans, this one sans Scully but with Doggett, ‘no sex, no drinking, two separate rooms.’
‘Sounds like the first six years of our partnership.’
‘Yeah, we were stupid.’
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Mulder kicked his shoes in the corner, picking up Will from his highchair, ignoring mashed carrots and peas smeared across the little boy’s face and neck. Squeezing his son and whispering a ‘hi there’, he turned to Scully, “she’s looking for a partner but I think it’s going to be a hard sell to most. You getting assigned to me, while the original intent wasn’t convenient, the end results managed to be phenomenal. I wonder if any of those assholes had an inkling of what we’d turn out to be.”
Scully, wearing some of her son’s dinner, popped her dirty shirt off over her head and slid on the spare she’d brought to the kitchen knowing what dinner with a 7-month-old would be, “there were several techs that I’ve worked with over the years that, with probably a lot of grooming, could take up the mantle. Years of working in autopsy bays at 2am with overtired, talkative 20-somethings can be helpful sometimes.” Smiling at Mulder watching her intently, “I can probably start cold-calling around, see what I can find.”
“Leaving the Bureau is never quite leaving the Bureau, is it?”
“Hey, I haven’t officially left. I just stopped going and pulling a paycheck.”
“Some people consider that quitting.”
“Skinner hasn’t said anything so why would I? Keeping my credentials is handy, if for nothing else, I can get into the building faster because I don’t have to go through the front door.” Tossing Will’s pajamas toward Mulder, “Can you change him, please, while I dish up some dinner for us?”
“Indeed.” Walking Will to the living room, wetting down some paper towel for face and hand cleaning as he passed by, “I guess it can’t hurt if you want to poke around a bit, ask some leading questions. I’ll email Reyes to let her know.”
“I can do it. We’ve been going back and forth about several past case theories anyway.”
Mulder looked up at her, squinting, “are you cheating on me? This feels like cheating.”
“Shut up, Mulder.”
Will’s wadded up dirty socks smacked her squarely in the back as she stood at the stove.
It took another few minutes before Mulder returned, both himself and Will in pajamas. Scully turned and couldn’t help laughing, “are we calling it an early night, Agent Mulder?”
“I am tired of working and tired of flying and tired of missing you so I vote an evening on the couch with the kid until bedtime, then more couch time with popcorn and scary movies.”
“Christmas movies.”
“Scary Christmas movies?”
“Sold to the tall gentleman in the red flannel pants.”
After Will fell asleep and was snuggled away in his crib, Scully stopped Mulder from hitting play on ‘Die Hard,’ not scary but at least bloody and definitely Christmas-y, “Joanna talked Veronica into coming down for Christmas. Veronica called my mom this afternoon to find out what would be a good hotel that was close to Maggie’s. Mom, in turn, offered her a room at her house.”
“I like how we have been completely removed from the equation.”
“The perils of our people. Anyway, it seems that Skinner’s mom is also coming for Christmas and she will be staying in the downstairs spare room because her knee gives her trouble and she doesn’t want to fall down the steps at 3am.”
“Thoughtful of her.”
“She also likes to be up at 5am to do her yoga and the living room is easier for that and quieter.”
Mulder was turning purple by now, trying not to laugh, “oh, my God, Mama Walter does yoga? Veronica is sleeping in a spare room? This may be the ultimate Scully Christmas.”
Taking up the moniker because it was handy, “Mama Walter is also insisting on baking all the desserts ; both in my mother’s kitchen or possibly Janet’s next door if she runs out of room.”
“Good Lord.” Deep breath in, “and try to remind your mom that Veronica is a vegetarian.”
“I highly doubt that’s going to stick by the time the holidays are done.”
Mulder sat back, counting on his fingers, “Maggie, Walter, Mama Walter … you, me, kid, Veronica … Bill, Tara, Matt, Graham … Dave, Joanna, Sam, Betsy, Hannah … Charlie, Sarah, Jake, Toby … Langley, Byers, Frohike … pretty sure Doggett accepted the invite … do you know if any of the Thursday night ladies are eating with us?”
“I think Betty is and her husband Stanley and I think Ellie is as well.”
“That’s 27 people, Scully. This is totally going to beat Thanksgiving by a mile.”
“There’s a chance she may actually have to expand into the living room.”
Mulder shook his head, “I can’t see your mom ever doing that. She’d rather stand and eat holding her plate than separate anybody.”
Hand resting on belly, “at least I’m still guaranteed a seat. It may not at the table but I will definitely not be standing.”
“Pshshht … not if I get to your seat first.”
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The next few days were spent decking the halls and putting up Christmas trees, both in the living room and a tiny one in Will’s room. Stockings were hung, lights were strung, bells were rung, tinsel was flung.
Essentially, Christmas threw up in their apartment.
Mulder settled down Sunday night, baby monitor in hand, basking in the glow of Christmas lights, “your son is snoring.”
“He learned it from his father.” Coming to sit next to him, turning off lights as she went so only the Christmas lights were on by the time she snuggled up next to him, pulling a random afghan over their legs, “we have to go shopping. We have one week left.”
A look of utter fake horror crossed his face, “it just occurred to me why you married me. You were running out of money to buy those damn nieces and nephews their gifts and seized the opportunity.”
“You know me. Gold-digger Scully, here to take your wallet and your sperm.”
He choked on his own spit, coughing until his eyes watered and he couldn’t breathe without gasping.
She simply smiled at him and grabbed the pad of paper and pen she’d brought with her, “any ideas what to get them?”
His spluttering continued for another minute before he seized the paper and tossed it to the floor, attacking her with cold hands, “get over here, Scully.”
Struggling not to laugh too loudly, she wiggled and squirmed as his frigid digits invaded warm places, “I thought … we were watching … John McClane blow shit … up?!”
He loved broken sentences brought on by gasping fits of giggles but he stopped soon after, hovering over her, “I do not want to be thinking about Bruce Willis right now, thank you very much.”
“What if I do?”
Dropping his head into her neck, he rolled off her to the ground, catching a kiss as he went by, “you are an odd woman.”
Scully turned her head, hair static-sticking to the couch cushions as well as her forehead and cheeks, grin wide, “you picked me.”
“I wasn’t so much picking as pulled in and never wanting to leave.”
Her smile softened, “how about you take me to bed and neither of us thinks about Bruce Willis.”
Standing, he held out his hand, “I can’t guarantee it but I can try.”
